Sins of the Father - By J.L. McCoy Page 0,1

and sighed. The tragedy of tonight’s events seemed to have aged him some. His handsome face was drawn and his ice blue eyes haunted.

Trey gripped my hand tighter as a soft whimper escaped his lips. I squeezed his hand back and scooted my chair closer to his. I could only imagine what Trey must have been going through. He was an Empath in a room full of scared, grieving people. I tried to think calm, soothing thoughts in an attempt to help ease him through. I didn’t know if they would help him, but I sure as hell was going to give it my best shot.

Lochlan took a long drink from the bottle of scotch and passed it off to Hunter. “Who were Shayne an’ Molly?” Lochlan inquired in his airy Irish accent. “I don’t think I have ever met ‘em.”

“They were of Callum’s blood,” Aoife said, standing up and walking over to Archer. She reached down and clasped one of his strong hands in hers. Archer looked at her and smiled a small, sad smile as she continued. “Callum turned Shayne O’Brien in the late 1960s in New York. Shayne was the son of a dear friend of Callum’s, and when Shayne was diagnosed at twenty-one with an inoperable and fatal brain tumor, Callum turned him. Shayne met Molly a few years later, fell in love, and asked Callum to turn her also. Shayne never fully embraced this life and he made the choice to live alone with Molly here in Texas.”

Aoife glanced at me for the first time and I saw unshed tears in her eyes. She quickly looked away and at Lochlan again. “Shayne and Molly O’Brien didn’t have a single enemy in this world. They were quiet, never left their little town, and never interacted with others of our kind. They were sweet, innocent, and very much in love. They didn’t deserve being sucked dry and ripped to pieces.” I watched as the tears in her eyes finally became too much to contain and they spilled down her beautiful, milky white face. She must have known them both, I thought sadly.

“There’s more,” Archer said gravely. “Sliocht Sheáin in Boston and Sliocht Brocc in Chicago have each lost three brothers in the past month. They were all killed in the same manner.” He took a deep breath before adding, “And we have no word from Callum. He has been missing from his home in New York for the past two weeks. No one has seen him.”

“Why di’nna we know about dis?!” Seamus exploded in his thick Irish/Scottish lilt; standing up with his fists clenched tightly, a look of pure, murderous rage on his face. It was obvious he was itching to fight back. “Someone is feckin’ murderin’ our kind, damnú air! Why di’nna you tell us sooner? Why di’nna someone from Sheáin’s family tell us? For feck’s sake, Athair, we cu’da helped! We cu’da tried!”

Trey’s body started to tremble uncontrollably and he looked over at me with quiet desperation in his eyes. I could see how hard he was trying to keep it together and how close he was to failing. I got up from the table, walked over to Hunter, and took the bottle of scotch from his hands with a quick ‘Thank you’. I brought it over to Trey and had him take several long sips as I sat down again next to him, softly rubbing circles on his back with my hand and gently whispering words of reassurance in his ear.

Archer looked worriedly over at Trey and then back to Seamus. “Tóg go bog é, Seamus, please. Tá sé ceart go leor a mhic.”

“Callum, brother?” I heard Jamison question softly behind me. “Why didn’t you tell me?” There was genuine pain in his voice. I glanced back and saw a mixture of confusion and betrayal marred his usual carefree appearance. “You know he is my friend.”

Archer put one hand to his heart and immediately looked remorseful. “Youngblood, I…”

“Wait,” Quinn interrupted. “I don’t understand, Athair. What does this all mean?”

Archer reluctantly turned his attention away from Jameson and addressed Quinn’s question. “It means, my son, that there is a vampire or similar blood drinking creature out there consuming our blood and leaving no witnesses to tell the tale. As to the message left on Greyson’s body, I have no idea what it means.”

“But why, Archer?” I asked, looking over at him and Aoife. She was still clutching tightly to his hand, lending him support. “I